Remembering Memorial Day

For most Americans, Memorial Day is the unofficial kick-off to summer. The first barbecue. A long weekend. Time to start wearing white again. Perhaps a sale that you've been waiting for so you can afford the big-screen television.

Having grown-up in relative peacetime, the Memorial Day parade on Riverside Drive to the Soldiers and Sailors Monument on 89th Street was an opportunity to watch older men marching along, carrying ceremonial wreaths to lay at the monument. I didn't know anyone who had been lost at war. I could not relate.

As we start this "holiday" weekend, it is important that we take at least a moment to realize that in the past few years, a whole new crop of soldiers - over a thousand - have given their lives for something they believed in. These were men and women - virtually all of them younger than me - who joined the armed forces out of a desire to either better themselves or to better their country. They chose a noble path and met with the ultimate sacrifice. And all of this for a war most of us feel was uncalled for. A tragedy no matter how we look at it.

So enjoy your time off, enjoy that grilled burger. Smell the sea air. Just take a moment to remember that in the last century there were thousands upon thousands of men and women who put their lives on the line to preserve something we generally take for granted. Remember that we hope we never again have to use their services. And remember that they have gone to their final rest fighting for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They will not be enjoying a day at the beach this weekend, nor will their families. It is the least we can do to remember that the word "memorial" implies that a loss has been suffered. It is the least we can do to pause and say "thank you" from our hearts.

Farewell Houston

I finished my nine-week assignment in Houston this past week. I left not because the project was completed, but because I have left the company I was working for to accept an offer of a great new job that will also keep me mostly local.

While I am excited about the new opportunity, I did have a great experience in Houston (travel aside) because I had a great team to work with. I had inherited a project that had gone bad and with the help of the team, was able to turn it around and get it back on track.

The hospital and hotel we were at are all part of a section of Houston called Texas Medical Center which is right next to Rice University. About a mile from the hotel is a four square-block collection of shops and restaurants called Rice Village. The previous week we had gone to a great tapas restaurant called Mi Luna in Rice Village. Everything about it was great and festive, including the food, the drink (we had Sangritas - a mixture of margheritas and sangria), and the entertainment. The live music was provided by a pair of classical guitarists - Garcia y Reyna - playing modern classical guitar. They were so good, most of us bought their CD - "Baile del Sol" - on the spot.

For my last night in Houston, I was asked to choose where we would all go out and I chose to return to Mi Luna as we knew that Garcia y Reyna would be there again (they play every Wednesday night). It was even better than the previous week. This time, they had a percussionist with them that played the Cajon - a wooden box that is sat upon, with guitar strings behind the front face which when struck in different places, produces varying sounds. We went through several pitchers of Sangritas and everyone was drumming along on every possible surface. We met two other fellows - Javier and Marco - who are friends of the musicians, and Javier sings with them sometimes. They were even louder than we were, singing along and Javier playing the spoons. Javier is from Bolivia and we spent some time chatting. At the end of the night, he gave me a big hug and told me to say hello to everyone in New York.

It was a little tough walking back to the hotel that night, and it wasn't just the alcohol, spicy food, and music humming through my body. As happy as I was to be getting off the road, it was also the sadness associated with leaving a great bunch of people with whom I had achieved some real results. I may not miss the Marriott, but I will miss the people, the camraderie, and nights at Mi Luna. Farewell, Houston.

Thanks, Richard!

I spoke to my very good friend Richard Stoerger yesterday and the subject of my blog came up. Richard reminded me that he was the very first person to post a comment to one of my entries (see "The Gates" in February 2005), but felt slighted because I had not acknowledged this ceremonious event.

T H A N K Y O U, R I C H A R D ! ! ! ! !